The Wager Cup
by oZmoZ
Summary: What if a quest could change the course of history? What if global conflicts could be avoided? Historical adventure fiction set in the 17th century Europe. Chapter 4 is up!
1. Chapter 1

_To be noted that even if my English is not that bad, because it's not my native language I tend to make mistakes now and then. Please help yourself and correct me. If I'm not told I'm making a mistake I'll never improve. Thanks in advance for your support. Hope you'll enjoy this. And don't forget to leave me a comment._

_\- update: there was a bit of a mess when I checked the preview but now it should be okay, formatting wise, sorry for the trouble :) -_

* * *

He can feel the sweat on his forehead. He knew it would be difficult but he could never have been prepared for this. A man is lying on the floor; his right hand is still holding a pistol.

He did not have time to fire. James had been too fast. But it was for the best. If he hadn't acted quickly, the future of the quest would have been critically jeopardised. He was not supposed to be here anyway. That's his fault in a way. James never meant to hurt anyone. It was not supposed to involve any casualty. He did not agree to use violence but sometimes you don't get to chose. It just happens and there's nothing you can do about it. At least it had been quick and he was surprised he didn't even hesitate. He just went for it.

The mission started a few months ago when James met Anne. She was a strange girl. Even if she tried to convince him that she was normal, he knew from the start that she was special. There was something about her, some peculiar sensation. He was sure about one point and she did not deny it: she was not from Amsterdam.

It was on the eve of October 17, on Herengracht that she appeared to him for the first time. It was exceptionally warm for the season and her fluffy coat caught his attention. She was clearly looking for direction but did not ask any of the passer-by. So after a few moments of self-evaluation he decided to take his chances and talk to the wrapped-up stranger. Little did he know that it would embark him on a dangerous adventure.

'Good evening madam. You seem to have lost your way and...'

'Good evening monsieur. Indeed, I am looking for the house of Master Witsen. Would you be so kind as to help me find my way?'

'Are you talking about Master Nicolaes Witsen, madam?'

'Yes that same Witsen.'

James was surprised. The Witsens were family friends of his father. He himself had met Nicolaes on a few occasions. The first time was in 1662 before his controversial article discrediting people's beliefs in superior forces influencing the earth was published. He remembered it vaguely. He was still a young boy, more interested in playing lummelen than paying attention to a 21 year-old disserting about how simple folks are to believe in the stars to command our world. The second time had been a few years after, in 1665 when Nicolaes came back from Moscow. He had been there to meet the tsar Alexis of Russia. James, 9 then, had been impressed by this traveller's stories. From that meeting, he nursed the idea to become a traveller himself and meet extraordinary people like Patriarch Nikon. The third time, the most recent, was at Nicolaes's wedding, in 1674.

'May I ask what is your business about?'

'No, you may not.'

Her reply had been so quick it unsettled him. But the tone was neutral, no hint of annoyance or anything indicating irritation. So he accepted the answer.

'If you would like to follow me, madam...'

She nodded and they started walking. She was keeping a reasonable distance but he couldn't sense any negative attitude emanating from her, simply because there was none. It was strange, just like if she was only focused on her objective and the world around her could not affect her mission. If only he could get her to speak, it would satisfy his curiosity. After all, she was a stranger and it was not common to cross the path of a woman, alone at night, who was asking for service rather than proposing one.

After a few minutes walking without a single word exchanged, tension was getting palpable. James's mind was imagining all kind of reasons for this woman to ask for Nicolaes's home address. Maybe she was a spy sent from abroad to kill him. What if he was held responsible because he guided her to her target? Would he be hanged even if he would to swear he didn't suspect her motivations?

'Is something wrong?'

Her question staggered him. She had finally broken the silence.

'No. Why are you asking that m'am?'

'Because you stopped in the middle of a bridge and I am quite certain that master Witsen does not live on a bridge, or under one. Unless, of course...'

'You're absolutely right. He does not. Please forgive me.'

James was troubled. He could not look at her in the eyes, too worried that she might guess the thoughts that were occupying his mind.

'You look nervous.'

'Pardon me. It's just that...'

A cat ran through the bridge where they were still pausing. After a few moments, he finally moved.

'It's getting late. We should hurry up.'

She did not question him until they stopped in front of carriage entrance. There was no living soul in the street.

'I may leave you here m'am.'

'Thanks for your trouble. You have been most kind to escort me.'

'A woman shouldn't be left alone wandering at night...'

James was relieved that his task was over but he was still wondering about the motive of this stranger. And she wasn't even knocking on the door. She was just there, on the street, probably waiting for him to go away and leave her to her own-affairs. He hesitated for a second and decided to head off.

He was about to turn at the corner of the street when he decided to look behind. Just to check that everything was alright. Or at least that is what he convinced himself he was doing. She had disappeared. He hadn't heard any noise though. It was definitely an outlandish encounter he just made.

'Where were you, Jimmy?'

A young man, slightly younger than James, was calling him from the shadow of a gateway.

'Why are you asking me? Did you miss me too much, Olive?'

'Don't call me that! I'm Oliver the Great!'

James was feeling more relaxed than half an hour before. Surely teasing his young friend was loosening him up. Oliver was not appreciating the hair scrubbing though. And he made his torturer aware of it very quickly by kicking his legs and playing with his fists to get rid of the forced embrace.

'Calm down, you-dog!'

Oliver was getting redder by the minute, enraged by the mocking. James decided to let him go and to avoid vengeance from his victim, he feigned to run away in the opposite direction. But he stopped rapidly. After all, he was meeting Oliver for business.

'Shall we go then? Or would you like to get a little more attention?'

Oliver made the decision to remain calm. James took notice and congratulated him.

'Come on big boy, let's get started. We don't have all night to practice!'

They pushed open a black door almost entirely covered by woodworm's art and disappeared from the street.

Inside, there was no light. They had no choice but groping their way along, in an almost absolute darkness. They were placing their feet very carefully to avoid any cracking sounds from the stairs. They clearly were familiar with this staircase and made it to the top floor in no time. Then James gave Oliver a leg up. He pushed a trap door leading to an attic, moved it aside, grabbed both sides of the opening and lifted himself through the aperture using only the strength of his arms.

'You're becoming quite the athlete.'

James was truly amazed by the muscular development of his young friend. A few months ago he was nowhere near that level of fitness. Surely exercising on a regular basis had its benefits and it would soon be noticed by the ladies.

'Is the ladder coming or shall I get to stay here all night?'

'It's not there' Oliver replied.

'What? Where did you leave it last time? It surely couldn't have moved, unless...'

'... Unless someone came here.'

James's pulse quickened. What if someone had found their secret place? What if someone had found their casket? He enquired Oliver to search for their equipment immediately.

'Oliver, please make sure that our safe is still at its place.'

James was getting nervous. Their coffer was truly not a treasure chest. There was no gold involved. But it contains two daggers that used to belong to his uncle Ian and he inherited them for his eighteenth birthday a few months before his godfather died of plague.

_That's it for tonight. What do you think? Are you interested? Would you like to read some more? All comment/feedback are welcome. Thanks again :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Second chapter is now up and the mystery is getting thicker._

* * *

\- Yes, it's still there.

\- How come that the ladder has disappeared then? James said, reassured.

\- I have no idea. Do you want to try and climb on the rope?

\- If I have no other choice... make sure you tie it securely on something. Use the roof's framework.

Oliver complied within the next few minutes and passed the end of the rope through the opening. It was a bit short not to say the least. It was landing just above James' waist line. Not exactly the easiest way to get up.

\- Is that the only piece of rope available? Please tell me you used the closest beam and that your knot is not...

\- I am not brainless. Of course I've done it sensibly.

\- Fine then, let's give it a try.

James jumped so he could grab the rope as high as possible and allow his thighs to have a hold over it. His first attempt was not fruitful, nor were the following dozen shots. He was getting tired but mostly frustrated. He wanted to go upstairs and check by himself that his godfather's gifts were safe. He knew he could trust Oliver but for an irrational reason he wanted to touch the daggers himself.

\- It's not working, maybe we should call it a day and train another time.

\- No, I'm sure I can make it.

\- I could try something else and tied the rope around my waist?

\- Yeah, let's try that.

After a few minutes, Oliver's head appeared again through the ceiling.

\- Alright, I am ready.

\- I could use the rope from this end.

\- Oops, I totally forgot.

Oliver passed the free end to his friend, sat down on the edge of the aperture and secured both his legs on each side of the opening. It would assist him to stay stable. It would be most helpful when James's weight would try to pull him down as he would make his way up.

\- Ready? asked James

\- Yes I'm all set.

In this configuration the rope was long enough to completely land on the floor. James had then no issue securing the rope around his right foot as he hauled himself up. He reached the opening in three moves. No the most difficult part to come. He would have to grab Oliver's harm and trust him to be strong enough to pull him up. At least enough so that he could secure the rest of the climbing.

\- Alright, now give me your arm.

Oliver's face was red due to the effort he was making. He proposed his arm immediately. James grabbed it as close to the elbow as he could and once the hold was secure, Oliver pushed on his legs while contracting his biceps. James managed to secure his left arm on the floor. He was now bent in half on the floor with his legs gesticulating in the air. Surely it would have been comical if someone had caught the scene from the below floor. It was quite amusing on the other side of the ceiling too. Ultimately Oliver pulled his friend as hard as he could and this move helped James securing his feet on the edge of the opening. From there he could manage to get up and that's what he did as soon as he recovered a normal breathing pace. As for Oliver, he was regaining normal colours. And he extricated himself rapidly from the dead weight of his friend to stretch his sore muscles. Tonight was about practising combat techniques and he was already out of breath when he did not even start the training session.

For almost ten minutes James did not move. To ensure his friend was recovering, Oliver kept him talking.

\- You're surely getting old, Jimmy!

\- You should keep silent, because as soon as I'm up, I'll show you otherwise.

Oliver managed to laugh but soon bent in half.

\- Don't make me laugh, Jimmy. My belly hurts when I laugh.

\- And you have the nerve to mock me?

\- If you were looking at you at this moment, you would probably be amused.

\- Show some respect or I'll stop training you.

\- I think the student just surpassed the teacher.

\- You still have a lot to learn, trust me. Now give me a hand so I can get up.

Oliver went to help James.

\- Thanks little Oliver. Tonight you deserve you nickname The Great.

Oliver bowed before his friend.

\- Thanks your majesty. You finally detected my potential for greatness.

James loved teasing his protégé. But in order to avoid conflict, he replied with a smile and quiet laughter.

\- Sure, for now it's only a potential.

\- Shall we move on to something else before I lose my calm? Replied Oliver on an irritated tone.

\- Absolutely. I have not deployed this tremendous amount of effort just for mocking your pride. Let me check the safe.

As he spoke he headed towards the chest, pulled out a key from his breeches pocket and opened the box. He lifted the lid and fell on his bottom. It was empty.

A vast number of questions was now invading James's mind. And immediately he suspected his friend of playing a trick on him.

\- Oliver, you know I am your friend?

\- Yes I know that. Why would you ask?

\- You wouldn't steal my goods, especially my daggers? You know they are special to me...

\- I don't belong to an important family like yours but I am not a thief.

Oliver's tone was deadly serious. James could not doubt his friend. Then, who?

* * *

_So what could be the link between this mystery and the strange lady James met earlier that same night?_

_Please leave me your feedback :) Thanks for reading._


	3. Chapter 3

It seemed obvious now that someone had broken into their secret training place. They had been most careful not to attract attention on themselves and as far as James knows they have always made sure no one was following them when they were heading towards their hideout. It was odd. And the oddest thing was that James was convinced it had something to do with this strange woman he accompanied to the Witsens earlier that night. There was no logical reason to it though but his guts were telling him she was involved, somehow. He had to find her and demand explanation.

* * *

The sun has just started to rise in the sky of Amsterdam. The city is still asleep on this cold morning. But in the Van Der Kampe house, the eldest son stayed awake all night. His mind had been busy planning his search for the strange woman. If he was to ask around if anyone had noticed her, it was wiser to do it during the day, not to draw suspicion on his motives. He didn't want anyone to know about the daggers. Especially not his father. The latter being a rich merchant, if by inadvertence he was to divulge the reason why he was looking for an outlandish lady it would reach his father's ears in no time. James could not have that. Ian was not exactly a role-model Johannes had chosen for his first son.

Ian had been an adventurer of some sort. That was the best description Johannes could come up with when he was to talk about his late brother. Ian had spent most of his life on a boat, travelling to exotic lands. And that is what killed him in the end. He contracted a fever but it did not kill him instantly. He made the journey back to Amsterdam before passing. As soon as he arrived at his wife's he had summoned his nephew James. They had had a long discussion on that day; it was the 15th of April 1674, just five days before James turned 18. During their interview, Ian had entrusted the two daggers he had just come back with from his last expedition to his nephew. They were special to Ian and he swore to keep them safe. Now they were gone. Stolen most probably. James could not let that happen. He would find them back.

Decided to start his hunting as soon as the sun would rise above his windows, James got up from his bed and put clothes on in no time. At this very moment, he would have to be discreet enough when exiting the house if he didn't want to be caught by Anneke, the maid. She had the talent to spot any activity happening in the house regardless of the room she was in.

James opened his room's door with caution and tiptoed to the stairs, his right hand holding on his shoes. There was a dangerous draft that could slam the door and spoil his mission before it even started. He managed to stop his bedroom door but it cost him bruised fingers. The pain was sharp but he could not afford to make a sound unless he wanted to be caught. His face turned red as he silently screamed. He almost dropped his shoes in the process.

I should move quickly and get out now, thought James. Especially if he wanted to openly express his pain. It was silly really to start his chase with aching fingers. Fortunately his mission was not involving any object holding, just tongue usage. And wit.

Miraculously he managed to walk out of his father's house without any more bruising involved.

Now let's go back where I left her and with any luck I may find someone who could help me. Maybe someone has spotted her with me yesterday and could recognise her. No, that's doubtful; I don't recall anyone being in the street when I met her or even when I accompanied her to Nicolaes's house. There was a cat though. I do remember him. If only he could talk... Focus, Jimmy, you need to be methodical and logical. Maybe I should make a sketch before I forgot how she looked like. For once, Father's drawing lessons might pay off. There is no point if I hunt without a picture. Description would be too vague and would correspond to almost any woman.

His thoughts were making him forget about the ache of his hurt fingers.

A piece of paper and a carpentry pencil will do for my sketch. I could go to Thomas's shop and ask for a favour. He must still be in debt with Father, thought James. And that's with this train of thought that he headed toward the city centre. He would be there in less than fifteen minutes. The drawing bit would surely last longer but James was confident he was starting his hunting on the right foot.

While he was passing Kalverstraat, James took the decision to stop by the orphanage.

"What are you up to boy?"

"Good morning Sister Cornelia. I'm here to see Oliver."

"You know very well that he is due to work at Petrus's candle shop."

"Naturally I do remember but it's not even half past seven and everybody knows Petrus is not a morning person" said James, trying to win over Cornelia with his smile.

"It is not a reason to disturb our order this early, young monsieur."

"You know I am no disturber."

"Don't be impertinent. And what is it with your hand? Have you asked for trouble lately?"

James realised he was holding his left hand in his right, protecting it from being hurt again.

"That is nothing, Sister. I'm being clumsy sometimes."

"Now off you go. I don't want any of your gaucheness near our orphanage."

James's smile was not as efficient as he thought then. Hopefully it'll work with Thomas. He will catch up with his friend Oliver, later on during the day, as usual.

James entered Thomas's workshop from the inner courtyard. The shop was not to open before eight.

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_That's it for now. What are your thoughts? Any comments/feedback? Thanks for reading. Hope you're enjoying it._


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4 is finally up. Hope you're enjoying it so far. Thanks for reading._

* * *

"Good morning young master. What brings you this early to my modest stall?" said a heavy bearded man.

"Good morning Thomas! How are you today?" James was cautious not to ask for his favour straight away. Greasing Thomas's palm would probably be better especially if he wanted to avoid any reporting to his father later on.

"As you can see, I am already on the deck, prepared to deal with our city's finest painters and their famous luxurious needs. But what about you? Don't tell me you're now aspiring to become an artist?" There was amusement in Thomas's tone. And also incredulity. This was not to James's taste but because of his visit's motive he could not afford to be picky.

"Thomas, my friend..." The shop-owner's eyebrows raised in surprise. "... I've met someone yesterday. And this encounter inspired me to use my drawing skills... or put them to rest once and for all." He decided not to reveal that the person he had met was a woman. It was irrelevant at this stage.

"Oh I see... and who could this person be? A fine lady you enamoured instantly? I always thought you and your young lad were..." He did not have time to finish his sentence as James shut him up, clearly upset about what Thomas was implying.

"Dear Lord! No. I'm not this kind of folk. Anyway it is not important for what I want to draw." Chin up and staring right in the eyes of Thomas, James was making a point to stay objective and on target. There was no space for emotions, not if he wanted to reclaim his uncle's daggers. He wasn't even sure if she was responsible. But at least he had a plan and it was simple on principle: find her, interrogate her and from there he hoped she would lead him to the daggers. It was a long shot and he was totally aware of that but he had to start somewhere.

"I can be a true friend and even help you with my father if you help me in return." There it was of his greasing technique.

"I see..." Thomas's face was revealing a lot. James knew his approach had not been very tactful but he wasn't known for being a fine strategist anyway. He had leverage available so he was using it. "And what can you do to help my case?" said the shopkeeper while folding his arms.

"I..." Quick! Think of something! "I have knowledge that I could share with you."

"I am listening."

Think carefully before talking. You don't want to end up in a mess. James's mind was reviewing in speed mode all the potential information he could gain from without putting himself under his father's radar. It obviously took too long as Thomas broke the silence.

"That is what I thought. You have nothing to share but you want me to help you anyway. You know I'm not a bad man and I could have helped you, should you not have mentioned my debts."

Thomas was turning his back to James and walking towards the front part of his shop when he was stopped.

"I am not sorry about being direct in my requests. However I consent that I should have been more tactful."

"You're too proud. Let me tell you this: if you want to gain respect from the people around you, and even from strangers you need to work of your tongue. It is too quick to attack."

James was not appreciating being told a lesson. He was no longer a child. He was getting impatient. "Are you going to help me, or not?"

"I don't want any additional trouble with your father. I can give you a broken carpentry pencil and you can take this drawing block of paper. It's all I can spare. No paint, no brush..."

James nodded with his head and reached out for what the shopkeeper was handing.

"It will do just fine. However I need to sharpen the pencil. Do you have a blade I could borrow?"

Thomas provided a pocket knife without saying a word. He breathed heavily though to notify his annoyance. James took care of the sharpening and as soon as he was done, put the knife back on the counter.

"Thanks Thomas." said James as he was leaving the shop by the same way he entered. The merchant did not bother replying.

Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong...

The New Church of the market place was announcing 8 o'clock as a small crowd was assembling near Juli's apple's stall. She was a very nice trader, coming to the city twice a month. She was sharing her time between Amsterdam and a few smaller cities on the coast. Her merchandise was following the seasons and in autumn she was the main dealer of high quality apples coming from a secret supplier she was the only-one to know the identity. The rest of the year she did commerce with other farmers but there never was a better period for her than autumn. Everyone knew Juli. But only a few could afford her products. Those were essentially captains, rich painters or a commander. Obviously they were never coming in person. They were sending their maids, lackeys, servants to wait in the morning cold to be the first to get the rare fruits. This morning was no exception. James had even heard about some domestics getting a bonus for managing to get Juli's apples.

Johannes had always been a strong supporter of Juli's products and Anneke would probably be there on the family's behalf. James's eye probed over the mass squeezing up against the stall. He did not dare to approach too close as he didn't want to get caught.

He was lost in his thoughts when a hand crashed on his shoulder and made him jump in surprise. He almost dropped his drawing supply.

"So, this is how you are spending your days? Staring at people in the street?"

"What are you doing here, Oliver? Aren't you supposed to be making candles all day-long?" James was astonished that his friend was not working at this hour. He was not to be wondering in the street during working hours. "Has Petrus given you a day off? That's not like him to let his prays slip through his claws." And that was an under-statement.

"I did go to his shop but it was closed, even the back entry was locked. I hammered the door as you know sometimes he's having a heavy end on the drinks but nothing happened. So I just thought I'd take the day off."

That was out of the ordinary but James could not complain as now he had a companion to help him on his mission.

"And you, what are you doing today? Apart from spying on people?"

"I'm looking for the woman I've met yesterday evening."

"Why?" asked Oliver.

"I can feel that she's involved in the disappearance of my daggers."

"How could she be?" Oliver was dubious.

"It's difficult to explain, really. It's just that... I know she is. Somehow, I know. Do you know what I mean?"

"I'm not sure I'm with you but if you need my help, then you can count on me for the day." Oliver's tone was genuinely offering support to his friend. James could tell.

"Thanks Oliver. But so far you cannot do much as I don't know where to find her. Or worse, I don't even know if she's still in the city. I was going to draw her portrait, from what I could recollect, but after deep reflection I don't remember much."

"Maybe you could try and compare with actual people you can see in the street now."

That is a good suggestion actually. I could use that as a starting point and from there refine a portrait of this mysterious woman. "Yes, that could work I assume. At least it would better than starting from nothing."

"What about her?" Oliver was pointing at a rather old but still very agile wrinkled woman.

"No! She was much younger." James almost burst out laughing.

"How old?"

"I don't know. I'd say she would be around twenty or so."

"So rather young then?"

"I don't know, maybe a bit older. But no more than thirtyish. She was surely not a damsel."

"If she was married, would she be wandering at night?"

Oliver had a point there.

"Yes that's odd. And she's was fair to the eye. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced she is linked to..."

"Do you mean last's night's events at our..." Oliver whispered "... hideout?"

"Yes. It's a strange sensation I have..."

"Shouldn't we go back to where you met her? And ask around for information, clue?"

"I thought about that but there was no one on the street at that time. We've only seen a cat."

Oliver was silent. James didn't know what to do. He had a pencil and some paper but didn't know exactly what to draw. He was not getting much inspiration from the crowd of people passing by.

An hour passed and they were still scanning the passers-by in the hope of finding her only by luck.

"Okay I'm freezing, standing here, doing nothing."

"If you want to go back to your candles, let me know at once. I'm not forcing you to be here." James was getting desperate.

"You should change spots anyway."

"Let's check up on Petrus then. I can still come back here later." As he said that, he turned his back to the market place and headed towards a narrow passage with his friend. Little did he know that her mysterious woman was to pass in front of his spot less than 5 minutes after he left.

* * *

_Please leave me your feedback so I know what your thoughts are. Also don't hesitate to correct my English (as it's not my native language I do mistakes and if nobody corrects me I cannot improve.). Have a lovely weekend :)_


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